


In This Little Shop

by breakingwho



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Arguing, Fluff, M/M, shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakingwho/pseuds/breakingwho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John own a bakery, but not everything is always as perfect as the shop presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Little Shop

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on tumblr and someone suggested a shop au. Sorry it's so short!

It was small. Quaint. Loving and cozy and welcoming. On the outside, of course.

Upon entering 221Bakery, immediately the aroma of fresh baked muffins, cakes, and various kinds of breads fill the nostrils and almost hug the brain. The glass counter contains goods that were made just that morning and on top, tiny samples of each one, a small register, and a golden service bell.

To the east wall of the bakery, large selections of homemade jams sat, waiting to be taken home and spread onto warm, fluffy bread. To the west wall, hand sewn scarves hung and the ends dangled, the bottom row just sweeping the wooden floor. On each scarf “221Bakery” was stitched in a cursive font.

Behind the glass counter a hallway continues into a kitchen where the baking magic happens, some costumers lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a cute, little old lady rolling and kneading floury dough.

It’s seven a.m. on a Wednesday and the shop opens in an hour. The only lit room is the kitchen and a mug is flung from one end of the room to the other, its original target being a tall, pale, curly haired man but instead, smashing into the wall behind him.

“Mrs. Hudson!” The target cried.

“Oh, don’t bring her into this, you idiot sod!” A short, sandy haired, middle aged man spat back with a broken voice. “You leave her out of this one, Sherlock. Now tell me.” His wool covered arms crossed over his wool covered chest.

“I don’t know what you want to hear, John, I really don’t!” Sherlock’s face was red, veins puffing from his neck as his arms darted to either side of his body, palms facing the man opposite.

“Do you really need to be reminded? Do you want to hear, again, why we started this in the first place?” John’s voice rose and cracked, taking a step closer to Sherlock.

“Enlighten me.” His arms now imitated what John’s were doing.

John’s hands covered his faced, rubbing it twice, before falling to his sides and revealing tears at the corner of his eyes. He stared at Sherlock, a crease forming between his brows and fingers curled into a fist. “You left, Sherlock. You left me, you left the shop, you left everything for three years. With just a vague voicemail. Three fucking years. That’s all I had left of you was a voicemail hardly explaining why and where and, and with who.”

Sherlock’s reply was wordless, his chest heaving and an honest, confused expression twisted into his face. “I told you. When I came back. I told you I had to. John, it was me leave temporarily or you leave- permanently.”

John’s gaze averted down towards his shoes and his fingers uncurled to fumble with the hem of his jumper. He knew why Sherlock did what he did. He understood. But since Sherlock returned, not once did he say “sorry.” He’s aware that Sherlock is unaware of the basic common courtesy and how to handle others emotions carefully, but John also knows that Sherlock can figure it out. He’s not going to spoon feed this one to him. It’s just hurting how long it’s taking. Though, now it hit John that things like this may always have to be spoon fed to the clueless.

So he did. His voice was now low, a soft, desperate rumble as his eyes remained glued to his shoes. “I just need you to say that you are sorry.”

Sherlock’s head tilted slightly to the right, confusion now morphing into understanding. “Oh.” He rushed over to John, hands cupping the sides of his face to make him look up and began pecking kisses on his forehead. “I’m sorry, John.” The kisses continued all over the others face, including the drying tears by his eyes, as he repeated his apologies, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry.” The kisses didn’t cease until John began to giggle and make wimp attempts to push Sherlock off him.

“Okay, okay Sherlock.” Sherlock’s hands kept holding John’s face and they looked directly at each other.

“John, you’re so…human.” He smirked as John rolled his eyes, but quickly closed the gap by pulling John’s face up against his for a kiss, making John have to stand on his toes and they both smiled into the kiss.


End file.
